Back in the Saddle
by grannysknitting
Summary: Their first return to solving crime after the pool and the explosion. Donovan's POV


**Back in the Saddle – Sherlock BBC Fic**

Follows on from Polygamous Marriage

Written: November 4th, 18:43

Current Mood: listless

Current Music: snow patrol

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Sally Donovan hadn't gone to visit the Freak in hospital. She knew the DI had, and that he'd been around to Baker Street several times after they - Dr John and the Freak - had been realeased. She didn't have the kind of relationship with the two men that would have led to a casual visit being welcome; not that she wanted the Freak to welcome her anywhere. Dr John seemed like a decent guy though, and once she'd stopped slanging his friend off where he could hear they'd become almost friends.

The Pool - Sally always thought of the incident with capital letters - had at least shown her that Dr John was not the doormat she pad suspected he was. No one should have been able to fight off emergency workers like that while bleeding out of so many holes, but John Watson had been adamant that he was staying with the Freak, or at least he was until he passed out from blood loss.

They'd ended up in a posh hospital in the posh part of London. God knows how they could afford it, unless Dr John got some sort of professional discount or the administration at the hospital owed the Freak some kind of favour. The DI had been pretty worried about Dr John for the first few weeks, though he'd made sure to bring cold case files to the Freak while the man was in hospital She'd heard the DI mutter something about 'care in the community' on his way to the file room, and guessed that the Freak was being particularly painful over his boredom while he waited to be released from hospital.

This was the first crime scene that the pair were going to attend since they'd gotten out. The Freak had consulted by phone a few times, and the DI had taken active case files and reports over twice in the last month, but it seemed that one of the pair was not up to leaving the flat to solve crime. The DI had sent a text because they were desperate, and had announced their immanent arrival as if that was something that the rest of the coppers on the scene should be _pleased_ about.

"Holmes and Watson are here," the crackle of the radio interrupted Anderson's monotone recital of the physical evidence that he'd gathered, "Bringing them in."

Sally turned and glanced out of the front window. The house was Edwardian, and had a small front yard with a low wall running along the boundary. She gasped as the Freak and Dr John came into view, shocked by the change that she could see in both men.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe he dragged John here," the DI muttered and swept from the room as Anderson came to look out the window with Sally. Dr John was paler than some corpses and positively emaciated. He had one arm in a sling and he was using an elbow crutch to support him as he walked. The Freak was positively _hovering_ around him, one thin hand knotted in the hem of Dr John's jumper. Despite the warm spring day - the season had changed while the two men were in hospital - Dr John looked cold and decidedly out of breath. The DI appeared in her line of sight and shook Dr John's hand, nodding to the Freak in hello and saying all the usual things. She watched as the Freak settled Dr John on the wall, the DI helping when he could, before Dr John pulled his phone out. The Freak also pulled his phone out and turned, heading towards the front door with a positively worried look upon his face.

"I know you've barely been more than arms length apart since waking in hospital Sherlock, but you can't just drag John out like that," the DI was remonstrating as they paused in the open front door. Sherlock sent a glance back at his flat mate and pressed a speed dial button on his phone.

"I didn't have a choice," he muttered to the DI, "You know what John's like."

"Patient, intelligent and handsome, you mean?" Dr John's voice emanated from the Freak's phone and Sally realised he'd called his friend and put the call on speaker. The Freak smiled, an expression that made Anderson stumble in shock, and swept his weird coloured eyes over the crime scene.

"Right," the DI interrupted hastily, "So I called you in Sherlock because this is the second scene of this type we've found in the last two hours. Someone has entered the premises, beaten the occupant to death violently, then left once more without drawing attention to himself or his crime. In both cases the weapon was wooden, long, no thicker than a mans arm and slightly flexible. Both the victim we found earlier and this one is a single parent: we can find no obvious ties between them. With the murders so close together, time wise, we're worried we've got a spree killer here. Anything you can give us on the killer's identity or next target would be great."

"I assume that you've failed to catalogue the footprint in the lee of the door here, Anderson?" the Freak pointed an abnormally long finger, "Do try to avoid destroying it."

"Sherlock," the admonishment came from the phone, "I thought you were going to describe the scene to me?"

"Right," the Freak smirked, "Well, there's a deep footprint in the pile in the lee of the door. Someone stopped there for a moment, likely to check that the street was clear before exiting the house."

"What about the crime scene itself?" Dr John asked and the Freak swept off to the front room. Sally rolled her eyes and tried not to be impressed as the Freak recreated the scene in words, painting a verbal picture that even the most obtuse person could have followed. There were tracks in the room that Anderson had already used to isolate the killers height and weight from, but the Freak went one further, deducing build and which hand he favoured as well.

"Yes, yes we've got all that," Anderson was not about to allow the Freak to best him in his own field, even if everyone there knew that the Freak was better than them at much of this job. That was part of the reason Sally hated him so much. If he was so good he should have joined Scotland Yard and been an asset to them, rather than a sociopathic thorn in their side.

"Surely, Anderson, if you've got all that, you can fathom what must have happened here?" the Freak looked down his nose at the head of forensics, and Sally frowned, opening her mouth to take the smug git down a peg or two.

"It means that the victim knew the killer. She trusted him, let him in and turned her back on him without second thought, allowing him to attack and kill her. It also means that he was carrying something heavy on his way out the front door - the change in the depth of the footsteps speaks to that," John's voice floated tinnily in the air from the Freak's still open phone and Sally was once again astonished when he turned and _beamed_ out the window proudly at his flatmate. She was beginning to think that something about their relationship had changed in the hospital and didn't want to go there. Imagining the Freak shagging was enough to make her take a vow of celibacy.

"Precisely John! Where is the child of the house?" the Freak turned back to the waiting coppers, "I believe that is what the killer took with him. His daughter."

"Oh god," the DI swore and then stopped, "Wait, his daughter? The victim is a single mother!"

"Unless the daughter sprang from her parents forehead fully formed, there had to have been a father at some point in her creation," Sherlock informed the DI dryly, "I think you'll find the first victim also had a child, probably at school, who has been collected by their father."

There was a moment of stillness and then the DI was issuing orders while the Freak smirked at them all. Sally lost track of the Freak for a few minutes before glancing outside in time to see him tenderly help Dr John up off the wall, steadying the smaller man to his feet and tangling his fingers once more in the hem of his jumper.

"Dear god," Anderson sounded disgusted, "Just when I thought he couldn't get any worse..."

"Anderson! Come and confirm this!" the DI yelled and Sally was left alone for a moment, waiting for her call to central records to go through, watching as the Freak matched his long legged pace to that of his injured flatmate.

She shook her head and made a mental note to buy ice skates. It looked as if the Freak had finally learned to be nice to someone.

END

Disclaimer - characters and setting as describes in the BBC series are not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine


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